


Disgusting Is as Disgusting Does

by Anonymous



Series: Episode 46 Canon Divergence AU [1]
Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Choking, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gun Kink, Home Invasion, Humiliation, I don't know but he is an Aquarius and we are kinky MFs, Impregnation Kink, Involuntary Arousal, Is Damien capable of this kind of depravity?, Mind Rape, Object Penetration, Psychological Torture, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rimming, Ruined For Anyone Else, Sadism, Snuff play, Stalking, Threatened animal abuse, Tooth chipping, Violent Sex, Watersports, Wetting, also he's a remorseless POS so yeah maybe, extreme masochism, forced dirty talk, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: If Damien can't have Mark, then neither can Sam. And hey, why not have a little fun with the competition in the process? Luckily for Damien, all it takes to break a masochist is a smarter, more deviant masochist. Oh, and alotof pain—and not just the physical kind. (Previous working title: "Don't Dox Me, Bro")This story contains graphic, violent noncon! I don't know how to make that point any clearer! Don't like, don't read!!!





	Disgusting Is as Disgusting Does

**Author's Note:**

> Some things that shouldn't have to be said but here they are anyway to cover my ass from some of you weirdos:
> 
> 1\. I have survived multiple rapes. This time of year is especially hard for me so I use fictional characters as scapegoats for the pain.  
> 2\. I do not condone rape in real life, EVER. Not revenge rape, not prison rape of child molesters, not "dubious consent," IT'S ALL BAD. I don't condone rape any more than Ridley Scott condones cannibalism.  
> 3\. If you are incapable of understanding the difference between fiction and reality, stop reading now and ask an adult to help you curate your internet experience better.  
> 4\. If you dox or harass abuse survivors for talking about their trauma, holy shit what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

Damien decided 11am was a perfectly acceptable time to start drinking on Valentine’s Day. An hour later, he was sitting on Sam’s sofa, scritching her cat’s ears and drinking a beer from her fridge. Sam, her arms laden with bags of office supplies, walked right past him in the dim living room without even seeing him.

Damien turned on a light. “Hey, Sam.”

Sam yelped and dropped her bags. To her credit, she didn’t disappear on the spot.

“Damien? What are you doing here?!” Sam fumbled inside her purse, presumably looking for her mace or her cell phone, but only succeeding in dropping everything on the floor.

That was just as well, Damien thought as he stuck his foot out and swept everything under the couch. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d do if she went for her cell phone. Pull his gun on her a little sooner, probably.

“I just wanted to check out Mark’s ~amazing girlfriend~ in person,” Damien said. “Having a good Valentine’s Day? Whatcha got there, folders? Kinky.”

“You’re even stupider than I thought if you’re here.” Sam shook like a chihuahua as she backed away from him. “All I have to do is go somewhere else for a while, and—”

“Sure, go ahead and disappear on me.” Damien stood up, still petting Darwin. “The way Dr. B. tells it, you come back a minute or two later. I can wait, and Mark won’t be here until seven for your little date. Now, I never took that fancy high school math because I didn’t want to, but I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of minutes between now and seven. You can try to run from me, but I'll just grab you over and over again until you give up. Wouldn't it be better to just get it over with? You’re gonna be eaten alive with anxiety for days if not _weeks_ if you try to run. Maybe longer. Why delay the inevitable?”

Sam fell silent at that. Damien grinned. He was looming over her, and at his height, that wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence. But that was just a bonus to her defeated expression. He was getting better at getting what he wanted without his ability.

“See?” He raised his beer to her. “I knew you weren’t as dumb as you looked.” He leaned in closer. “We’re gonna be real good friends. Just like Mark would want.” He kissed her on the nose and then cracked up.

Sam scowled, rubbing at the wet spot on her nose. “You’re drunk. At noon. On a Tuesday.”

“So? Isn’t that your type? Scruffy guys who drink too much because of what the AM put them through?”

“You are _nothing_  like Mark. You could never in a million years be even half the man Mark is.”

“Whatever.” It was Damien’s turn to scowl, not to mention change the subject. “Take off your clothes.”

She recoiled as if he’d punched her. “What?”

“You heard me. Take off your clothes. I wanna see what Mark sees in you.”

“No! I’m not taking off my clothes! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to use your ability on me? It’s not working! Just go home and sleep it off.”

“Funny thing about my ability.” Damien fished the gun out of his hoodie pocket. “It turns out, having a gun is almost as good as having your powers back.”

Sam gasped, shrinking back. The gun only had one bullet in it—he’d triple checked that before he’d left—but she didn’t know that.

“Wait, no, please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me or Darwin.”

The cat meowed deeply in warning at the mention of its name, its claws already sinking into Damien’s hoodie.

“Oh right.” Damien gave Darwin one last kiss on the back of the head. “Let’s put you up while the grownups talk, okay? Wouldn’t want anyone _accidentally_  getting hurt.”

He tossed Darwin into the hall bathroom and shut the door. When he turned back, Sam was just disappearing. Damien chuckled.

“Well okay then.” He settled back onto the couch and took a swig of beer. “I’m surprised it took you this long. Go have your little adventure, and I’ll be here when you get back.”

Darwin meowed and rattled the bathroom door. Damien checked his phone.

Sam returned mere seconds later, before his beer even got warm. She landed with a crash, knocking into the coffee table as she scrambled for his gun. But Damien was ready, and he gave her a hard kick in the stomach. Sam went sprawling backward, and Damien hopped up, putting his sneaker on her chest.

“Stay down,” he said, and then chugged the last few ounces of beer. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and then caught her eye, licking the neck of the bottle while she watched.

She squeezed her eyes closed, and a moment later she disappeared from under his foot. This time, Damien was less amused. When she returned, still on the floor, he simply stepped back on her chest before she could get up.

“I’ll leave again,” she threatened.

“Be my guest,” he said. “I don’t have any plans today. Like I said, I’m happy to kick the shit out of you as many times as you want over the next seven-ish hours. But this game is starting to annoy me, so next time I’m gonna step on your face if you go again. I’d love a reason to break your nose after you’ve stuck it so many places it doesn’t belong. Sound like fun to you?”

She pouted, and someone else probably would have found it cute. “What do you want?”

“I told you. Just a little cooperation.” He slowed down his usual drawl as if he were talking to a particularly stupid kindergartener. “I want you... to take... your clothes off. Think you can manage that by yourself, _sweetie_?”

“Fuck you.”

Damien fired the single bullet very carefully into the carpet a couple of feet from Sam’s head, just to let her know he wasn’t fucking around. The noise deafened him, so he couldn’t imagine what Sam was feeling. She clapped her hands to her ears, crying out. It took him a second to notice she’d wet herself in fear, soaking the carpet under his shoes.

“Goddammit, that’s it.” He dropped onto her, straddling her ribs so she couldn’t breathe properly without his permission. He knew she could feel his semi, or at least the heat rushing to that section of his jeans. Even half-mast was a testament to how much he hated her, given he usually only got hard being on the receiving end of this kind of treatment. He rubbed up against her, growing harder at the thought of all the nasty, painful things he could do to her.

“My ears! I can’t—” Sam wheezed. “I can’t breathe!”

Damien slapped her on the face to get her attention. When she opened her eyes, he pushed her shirt up and her bra down, ignoring the warmth seeping into the knees of his jeans.

“Man, whatever Mark likes about you, it’s clearly not found in the tit department. What are you without this padded bra? Like a B cup? A? I’d give them a 2 out of 10, and it’s only that high because they’re symmetrical. Mostly.” He nudged one of her nipples with his gun, being careful to avoid the trigger even though he knew it was empty. “Ha! Finally, somebody’s excited to see me.”

“Only because it’s cold!” Sam protested, hands still over her ears.

“Yeah, sure.” Damien pinched her nipple, then twisted it. “You don’t have to tell me the truth, as long as you know it in your own head.”

“Why? What is your endgame here?” she demanded.

“Are you a fucking idiot? How many times do I have to repeat myself? My endgame is to get you naked and find out what Mark sees in you.” He stuck the gun into the back of his jeans and wrestled her pants down her legs, grabbing her stained white panties in the process. “Ugh, I can’t believe you pissed yourself. God, I knew you were gross—why do you think I had to get drunk to even consider this plan?—but Jesus! I was not prepared for this level of disgusting.”

She was clearly stung but trying not to give his words any weight. “Good news, Damien. No one is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to do this to me. Just the opposite, in fact. Why don’t you just shoot me in the knee and call it a day? Getting shot by you would be preferable to listening to you talk for the next hour.”

“Ha! Good one. Don’t worry, Princess, I might still shoot you.” He tapped her on the nose with a wet finger, making her nose wrinkle. “But first, since you’re putting me through all this bullshit, I think it’s only fair I get to fuck you with the bottle.”

“What?!” Her eyes widened with horror. “Oh my god, no, please—”

He stood up, tugging her sopping pants past her ankles and pulling the gun back out. “Yeah, I told you. This gun is almost as good as having my ability back. Pick up the bottle.” Sensing she intended to hurl the empty beer bottle at him, he cocked the empty gun and dropped the teasing note from his voice. “You throw it and I’ll shoot you, I swear to God, Sam, you know I’ll do it. Just give me a reason. I’ll _happily_  put four bullets in your head and the last one in your cat.”

“No!” Sam glanced toward the bathroom, where the door was still rattling angrily. “Fuck, all right. But you have to promise not to hurt us if I do what you say.”

“No promises.” Damien eyed her over the gun. “Well, I promise to fuck you either way. The only question is whether you’re going to be bleeding out while I do it or not.” Gross. Hopefully she was too freaked by the gun to call his bluff, because piss was bad enough—he was _not_  getting blood on his jeans. “Pick up the fucking bottle or I’ll do it for you.”

Sam grabbed the bottle with one seriously trembling hand, staring up at him with the saddest puppy dog expression he’d ever seen.

“Lick it,” Damien ordered. “Get it nice and wet. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.”

With a shudder and a grimace, Sam obeyed, licking his saliva off the green glass and wetting the bottle thoroughly with her tongue.

“Now spread your legs open.” Damien shoved the gun in her direction. “And stick it in your pussy.”

Sam made a terrified little noise that was music to Damien’s ears.

“Damien, please don’t make me do this,” she begged. “I don’t think it will fit, and I could get seriously hurt if it breaks, and Mark will never forgive you if anything—”

“The alternative is my cock. You saying you want my cock inside you instead?”

“Ugh, god.” The look of revulsion on Sam’s face was priceless. “Yes, okay, I guess so!”

“Say it.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t cry. “I want your cock.”

“Louder.”

“Gah! I want your cock! I want you to fuck me with your cock and not the bottle! Is that loud enough for you?”

“Perfect.” Damien unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his baggy jeans, letting them sag just enough to kickstart Sam’s imagination. “Not here, though. Get up and move to your bedroom.” He gestured toward the master bedroom, then paused. “Wait. We should clean up this mess before we go.”

She stared at him blankly.

“Take your shirt the rest of the way off and use it to mop up your piss.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Sam didn’t protest that order. She simply stripped off her blouse and pressed it into the new carpet, soaking up her mess. She kept her head down as she did, and her bangs fell to hide her pink face. Good. He wanted her humiliated and ashamed. His whole plan kind of depended on it, actually.

“That’s good enough,” he said when she started scrubbing the carpet with her shirt. “Crawl into the bedroom.”

Her head still hung, Sam preceded him into her bedroom on all fours. It was kind of hot, watching her from behind, but he didn’t think it would make his zipper twitch so much if he didn’t hate her fucking guts. He hadn’t gotten off of being in control in at least 15 years; it was a weird feeling.

“Get in the bed,” he told her. “On your back.”

While she did, he yanked open her nightstand and peeked in. Then he was on the bed with her, handcuffing her wrists around a headboard slat.

“You know I can get out of these,” she said. “One little disappearance…”

“Can you?” he asked, curious. “How does that work, exactly? Do you pick what goes with you? Is it subconscious? Could you take the handcuffs but not the bed? Dr. B. was light on the details about how that stuff works.”

Sam didn’t answer.

“Yeah, I know you can get out of them if you really want,” he said. “But I thought you wanted me to get this over with so I would leave and you could get ready for your Valentine’s date.” He spat the last two words out.

Sam sighed at the ceiling. “You don’t have to do this, you know. If you leave now, I won’t even tell anyone you were here, I promise.”

Damien ignored her. “Which hole do you want me to put it in?”

“I… what?!”

“Yeah. Well, I don’t trust you not to bite me, so your mouth’s off the table. Do you want it in your ass or your pussy?”

“Look, you haven’t _done_  anything yet! I know this is just a stupid drunk mistake and you’ll regret it when you sober up! Mark will never forgive you if you rape me. That’s what you’re doing, you know.”

“ _Obviously_  I know that, Sam.” Damien tsk-ed her attempt to change the subject. “Now, I can make the decision if you really want. But _is_  it what you want? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little control here? I mean, you probably don’t want your ass fucked, right? But what if I knock you up fucking your pussy, since you’re not on the pill? Hm. Decisions, decisions.”

She was blushing and visibly horrified and disturbed at the same time. It would almost have been cute, in any other situation.

“How the hell do you know I’m not—”

Damien shoved his hand into her nightstand drawer and pulled out a link of five or six condoms. “Just an educated guess. See, I never wear condoms, so pregnancy is a puh-retty real risk. You’d better think long and hard about whether you really want a mind manipulator baby. My parents didn’t think it was all that great. Besides, I’ll probably shoot my load faster if you’re begging me to put it in your ass, so, you know, that’s something else to think about.”

Sam pressed her lips together, staring him down.

“Which hole is it gonna be?”

Sam’s chin quivered before she finally answered, “The regular one! Obviously I’m not going to ask for the other one!”

“Uh, sorry, I’m not sure which one that is.” Damien leaned in to run the gun down her naked stomach. “My victims are usually so overcome with lust by this point that there’s a good bit of, let’s call it vernacular. Want to try again, or should I just guess which hole you meant?”

Sam took a deep breath, her throat muscles working hard. “Please, Damien,” she gulped. “Please fuck my… my p-pussy.”

“P-please, Damien, fuck my p-p-pussy!” Damien mocked in a falsetto. “Sheesh, that’s pathetic. Wadsworth is better at dirty talk than that, and I’ve never even been in her bed. Well, not exactly. I’ve been in _a_  bed she owned, but—you know what? That’s not important.”

He adjusted her legs until he had a comfortable spot to lie between them. He pushed his damp jeans down, ignoring the wet spots on his knees. After all, this wasn’t his bed, and he didn’t care if he got her piss on it. He thumbed her exposed, pink skin, and—

“Why are you so dry?” he demanded.

“Because I’m not turned on,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not just… slippery 24/7?”

“No! I’m terrified out of my fucking mind! Vaginas are not just wet and ready to go at a second’s notice! Is this really the first time you’ve encountered a dry vagina? Because personally, I’m surprised it’s not the status quo.”

Maybe it was the new status quo, now that he couldn’t automatically lubricate his partner’s arousal with a little atypical mind magic. Either way, she was talking to him like he was an idiot, and it was pissing him off.

“You realize I am holding a gun, right?”

“Good for you!” Sam just glared defiantly at Damien. “So what? I can’t just turn it on. You can hold a gun to my head for a year, and I still won't just get wet on command.”

“Well, how does _Mark_  usually get you in the mood?”

“I don’t know!”

He felt something spark inside her. She did know, and she was trying to fight how much she wanted him to do it to her.

“That’s a lie.” Damien stroked her inner thigh with the muzzle of the gun. “I know you’re lying. You want me to start by shooting one of your feet?”

“No! Okay, he… he goes down on me. For hours, sometimes.”

“Does he, now?”

Sam immediately looked like she regretted it. “But you don’t have to—”

“No, it’s cool.” Damien scooted down until he could sniff right between her legs. “I’m a man who can appreciate a buffet from time to time. Let’s see how you taste.”

He lowered his tongue, nuzzling her neatly groomed curls with his nose. She smelled perfect. The faint, lingering scent of her piss didn’t bother him; if anything, he kind of liked the character it lended to her taste.  Truth be told, Damien could probably keep up with Mark in a pussy-eating contest. Giving head, rimming, foot worship...those were usually his favorite parts of sex. But for some reason, he only had an appetite for dishing out the pain and humiliation today. He gave Sam a few expert licks, enough to make her squirm and get her juices flowing, and then he made a big show of gagging and spitting and wiping his mouth.

“Yuck! Zero out of 10.” He stuck his tongue out, like it was tainted by her taste. “Sorry, Sam, I tried to power through, but Jesus! Do you eat a lot of junk food? Honestly, maybe it’s just the piss all over you. Unless that’s Mark’s thing? Come on, Sam, tell me how Mark can stand to have his face buried in _that_  for hours.”

Sam looked away from him, her jaw set determinedly but her chin quivering. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she was close to breaking. Now he just had to keep trying sadistic shit until he got the right reaction.

“Oh well,” Damien said. “Still gotta test drive this hole before I can judge.”

He slid up against her, finding her wetter than he’d left her.

“Attagirl.” He patted her on the head. “I knew you could make yourself wet for me.”

“It’s just your spit,” Sam muttered.

“Nah, I was barely down there two seconds,” Damien said. “Besides, I know what spit feels like. It’s not spit. You totally got turned on by me going down on you.”

Sam flushed. Damien pushed inside her, and Sam closed her eyes and turned her head.

“Oh, this is not happening, this is not happening, this is not hap—”

“Hey.” He bumped the gun against her forehead. “Look me in the eyes while I’m fucking you.”

When she refused, he put his hand on her throat, instantly causing her to breathe faster. Ha, finally! The strongest surge of desire radiated from her, and Damien knew he’d found something good.

“It’s weird.” He squeezed her windpipe just enough to scare her. “I could totally kill you right here in in your own bed, and the last thing you’d ever feel would be my dick pounding you and my hand crushing your throat.”

“Please don’t kill me,” she whispered.

“Open your eyes, then. I want you to look at me. I want you to remember this moment forever.”

She opened her eyes just a squint, still managing to glower even like that. It was all for show, though. She was so wet it was leaking onto the bed, and her body was so welcoming he could no longer bottom out against her cervix. Yup, he’d found something good, all right.

“Good girl.” He massaged her throat. “You love getting choked.”

She shook her head, but oh, he could feel how much she loved it.

“That’s not what I heard,” he gloated. “A little birdy told me you get off on it. So how come Mark doesn’t choke you like this? Am I really that much better in bed than him? Oh, man, that’s sad if it’s true.”

“Mark—” Sam had to stop to swallow and catch her breath. “Mark is amazing in bed. He’s sweet, and gentle, and actually cares about me and listens to what I tell him and—”

“So you’re just too shy to tell him you’re a kinky little freak in bed.” Damien squeezed harder, fucking her earnestly now. “The reason you’re so turned on by me is because you want someone to hurt you and be mean to you. And Mark… he’s just too nice to ever hold you down and choke you and fuck the shit out of you. You need this. You should be thanking me.”

Sam whimpered.

“Come on, I’ve got a gun to your head. No one is watching. The least I can do is force you to have the best orgasm of your life, right?”

Sam shook her head fiercely.

“Haha, too bad.” He was moving so fast sweat was dripping from his face onto hers. “I like to fuck for a while. If you’re this turned on now, think about how many times you might accidentally come while I’m fucking you raw over the next few hours.”

“No, no please…” Sam’s resistance wasn’t very convincing.

She totally wanted that orgasm more than anything now, but how she wanted it… whoa, seriously? Damien laughed out loud when he figured out what he was feeling from her.

“Call me Daddy,” he ordered her.

“No!” Sam’s face was bright red now, and it was definitely not solely from the choking. “You’re only three years older than me! I’m not calling you—”

Damien slapped her. He was getting tired of having to do things the hard way. Physically tired, even. He dug deep inside her psyche, probing the darkest spots and trying to interpret them through the lens of his own masochism. “Do it, you little bitch.”

She pursed her lips. No, that wasn’t right. Fuck. Damien poked her cheek, as if he could tap her brain that way. He was close, though. The language was different, but her brain was similar to his than a lot of ways, and not just because they were both masochists. Maybe accidentally losing one’s parents to budding adolescent abilities did something to a person’s brain. He took a deep breath and stared into her defiant eyes for a moment.

Suddenly, he choked her hard, fucking her with long, deep thrusts instead of the frantic rabbit style he’d been enjoying.

“Stop!” Sam squirmed.

Damien lowered his face to hers. “Call me Daddy, you stupid cunt, or I’ll bend you over my lap and spank you until you can’t sit down.”

“No, Daddy, please!” Sam gasped, her body pulsing around him with an unexpected orgasm. “Daddy, Daddy, please…oh my god...”

Damien released her throat and took a much-needed break as Sam fell still and broke down into tears.

“No, god, no…. Why—How did you do that?”

Damien shrugged. “Well, obviously I don’t have my powers, do I? Or you would have been wet from the start. But I think it’s pretty impressive I made you come with nothing but my dick and my voice. Don’t you think that’s pretty decent for someone who’s used to having special powers?”

Sam covered her face, and Damien let her. For now. That kind of utter humiliation was exactly what he needed.

“Hmm. I’d give your pussy tightness a 4 out of 10.” He pulled out and stuffed four fingers straight into her. “You ever heard of kegels? You could definitely use them. I’ve got four fingers inside you without even trying. Also, this is so weird I feel like I must be imagining it, but has anyone ever told you your pussy is kind of... cold? Is that normal? It’s kind of grossing me out. Maybe you should play up the vampire kink stuff in bed wth Mark.”

“Stop it, Damien.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Damien pulled his hand away and replaced it with the gun.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Just another episode of… “Will It Fit’?” Damien bit the inside of his lip, humming the “Will It Blend?” theme as he pushed the muzzle of the gun into Sam’s body.

Sam howled into his ear, kicking her legs in a futile attempt to knee him anywhere sensitive. Damien patiently covered her mouth and went back to trying to insert the gun inside her. She might not have been tight, exactly, but she’d obviously never had anything as big as Damien’s gun inside it. That satisfied him, somehow.

“Oh shit!” he laughed. “I almost pulled the fucking trigger. That would have been a mess. Can you imagine if I left and Mark found you like that? Whoops. Better hold still.”

Sam screamed into his hand but went still, every muscle in her body trembling violently. Damien pulled the gun out and examined it.

“Wow,” he said. “Less blood than I thought. _Way_  more wetness, though. Guess you’re more into all this than you let on.”

She shook her head.

“Well, either way, you’re probably all stretched out down there now. And I didn’t like it. So...”

He stuck his fingers in her mouth, forcing them down her throat until she gagged. She seemed resigned to it, at least until he pulled his digits out and wiggled one into her ass. Sam’s back arched off the bed as she tried to writhe away from him.

“Wait! No! Please no.”

“There’s gotta be something good about you.” Damien thrust his finger in and out. “Like, some part of your body has to be at least an 8 out of 10 to make Mark put up with everything else. And I’m not gonna stop until I figure out what it is.”

“But you said if I—you made me talk dirty for you!”

“Yeah, and you did a fucking terrible job of it, so it doesn’t count.”

Sam started to breathe hard and fast again, as if she were about to disappear.

“Go ahead and time travel,” he said. “I'll wait, as long as you don’t mind a broken nose.”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as he forced another finger into her.

“Listen, Sam, I’m gonna put my dick in there either way,” he said. “Up to you whether I do permanent damage or not.”

“Permanent dam—oh my god.” Sam shut her eyes and blew out a deep breath as a third finger worked into her. “Oh my god…Damien—”

“Great!” Damien pulled his fingers out. “On three. One—”

He slammed his cock straight into her ass without further warning.

“Aha—Ow! Ow, OWW!!!” Sam thrashed under him. “Holy fuck, _why_?!”

“Shh, you know you like it.”

Damien licked Sam’s cheek, and, as planned, it worked to distract her into relaxing for a half second. By the time she thought to clench again, he was balls deep inside her.

“Oh, I get it now,” he mused with a laugh. “Fuck, I’d keep you around too, just for this hole.”

“That really, really fucking hurt.” Sam’s eyes were still red and watering. “Why are you doing this?”

Damien shrugged, savoring the way her ass unwittingly milked his dick. “Good girl, Sam. Keep squeezing hard like that.”

Sam kicked his shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt him. “Are you trying to, to get Mark back or something? Or get him in the first place?”

“No, Mark made it very clear there was no chance of that. Even if I could change into who he wants me to be, which I can’t, I’m not delusional enough to think raping his girlfriend will magically make him fall in love with me.”

“Then why?” she pleaded. “Why are you hurting me like this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I was bored? I sort of hate you?”

“Why?! What did I ever do to you?”

“You stole the guy I liked? You punched me a few months ago? Yeah, I don’t know, sorry. It all sounds kind of lame when I say it out loud.”

“Then stop! If you don’t even have a reason for this, just let me go and I won’t, I won’t press charges or anything, I promise.” She was so desperate she looked sincere, but it didn’t matter either way.

“Nah. I’m actually having more fun than I thought I would.” He held his gun in front of her face. “Lick your slime off my gun and I won’t tell Mark how wet you got.”

“No!” She suddenly bucked so hard she nearly threw him off. “Let me go, you fucking psychopath!”

“Hey! That isn’t very polite,” Damien snarled. “I just gave you the best goddamn orgasm of your life! Watch how you talk to me—”

“You’re a sad, pathetic loser who can’t recognize when someone isn’t interested in you! And no one is ever interested in you! Not Mark, not any of the people you’ve mind controlled and raped—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You need to shut up now.”

He shoved the gun into her mouth, but she resisted, and so the front sight cracked something hard. Damien would have known it was Sam’s tooth either way, but the way her ass clamped down on him from the pain… well, it was almost enough to make any guy jizz right then and there.

He pulled his gun out of her bloody mouth, wiping it on her soft bed sheets before dropping it out of her reach. He grabbed a thrashing leg in each of his arms and rode out her spasms, not particularly concerned with her cries of pain or her panicked, choking coughs. She deserved a broken tooth and a hard assfuck for being such a goddamn bitch, so he wasn’t going to bother feeling guilty for hurting her. If anything, he wanted to hurt and humiliate her more. That got him right to the edge, so he quickly pulled out and stuck his cock back inside her pussy to shoot every drop of his seed.

“Ahhh!” he sighed theatrically as he fell on top of her. “I know you’re not supposed to go ass to pussy, but I still like to get the best of both worlds. And I should have asked earlier, but Mark _does_  want to be a dad, right?” He snorted. “A real dad, not a daddy in bed.”

Sam spit blood and tooth fragments out onto the pillow beside her and then fell back, sniffling softly and staring up at the ceiling. Damien decided to test if she was properly broken yet. He lay on her other side, stroking her hair and cheek. She made no move to stop him.

“Thanks for letting me hurt you.” He kissed her cheek. “I had a lot of fun. Sorry you didn’t there at the end, but fuck, it was so hot to make you cry and squeeze around me like that. I’d totally hurt you worse just to hear you scream like that again.”

Sam pretended to be deaf or lost in her thoughts, but her body responded to his words. Her breathing quickened, her nipples hardened, and she swallowed.

“What the hell, you only live once, right?” Damien pushed the gun back inside Sam.

She threw her head back on the pillow but said nothing. He fucked her gently with his gun. Sam wanted it harder, but he wasn’t going to give her that until gave him what he wanted.

“I’m glad I came here to teach you a lesson,” he said. “I think you’ve really taken it to heart. Maybe you’ll be less of a cunt now. What do you say?”

He continued fucking her with the gun at a steady pace, his thumb on her clit.

“Anything you wanna say to me?” he asked. “Maybe a ‘Thank you, Damien’?”

“Thank you, Damien,” she muttered.

“I _said_ , look me in the eye while I’m fucking you,” he snapped. “And say it like you mean it.”

She made eye contact, biting her lip for a moment before breathlessly repeating, “Thank you, Damien.”

“For what?”

“For the… orgasm.”

“And?”

He fucked her a little harder with the gun, a promise to give her the ravishing she craved if she played along. That little front sight had to be tearing her up, but Sam’s pupils were actually dilating from the thrill of the pain.

“Thank you for hurting me,” she said. “And teaching me a lesson.”

“You want me to hurt you more so you can come again?”

“I… yes. Yes!” Sam finally fractured like a dam, wetness flooding the gun. “Fuck me harder! Hurt me, Damien, Daddy, please, please, hurt me, hurt me!”

He pushed his pants down and sat on her chest, offering his ass to her. Sam didn’t even hesitate; her tongue immediately found his asshole and licked it like her life depended on it. She even stretched out her tongue to clean his sweaty taint and balls. Wow. She must be even deeper in her masochistic trance than he thought. He flicked her clit hard a few times, making her tremble and spread her legs wide so he could hurt her more.

He let her keep rimming him while he fucked her with his gun so hard her blood stained the yellow sheets in little splotches. She moaned softly the whole time, sticking her tongue as deep into his ass as she could. Damien ignored the erection she was giving him and focused on destroying her pussy, pushing her deeper and deeper into her trance.

This time, when he climbed off and put his gun at her lips, Sam didn’t just lap it clean. She kissed it, snaked her tongue across the bottom of it, even fellated it deep into her throat without complaint or resistance. Damien didn’t go out of his way to bump her chipped front tooth, but he wasn’t particularly careful with it either. He pushed the gun so deep into her throat that she choked on it, and Sam’s body wiggled in pleasure.

“Should I pull the trigger?”

Sam nodded.

Damien snorted and uncuffed her. “Then do it yourself. Go ahead.”

He twisted her nipple hard to remind her that she liked pain, then his fingers found her clit and rubbed it furiously. He wanted her right on the edge of orgasm for this to work.

“Pull the trigger,” Damien whispered, wrapping her hand around the gun. “Kill yourself. It’ll feel amazing.”

Sam whimpered, her body tensing as she pulled the trigger. She convulsed on the bed in the longest, craziest orgasm Damien had ever witnessed. When she was finished, she lay there in confusion. Damien pulled the gun out of her mouth.

“What the fuck did I just—” She looked from the gun to him, suspicious. “You _do_ have your ability back.”

“Nope. You just wanted that all on your own.”

“Damien—”

“Honest to God.” He wiped the gun clean on her pillow. “If I had my ability back, you would know. You just tried to kill yourself to please me of your own free will.”

Sam shook her head. "No... I... that's not possible."

"Totally possible. You just did it." Damien stuffed the gun back into his sweatshirt pocket. “Looks like my work here is finished. Let’s call someone to come pick you up. I’m thinking Dr. B., unless you object.”

Sam just shrugged, too distracted by trying to work out what had just happened to argue.

Joan sounded like she was mid-sigh when she answered. “What do you want, Damien?”

“Oh, it’s not what I want. It’s what Sam wants.”

“Sam?! Damien, if you go near her—”

He laughed. “I did worse than that. I was inside her about two minutes ago.”

“What do you want, Damien?” Joan’s voice broke, but she was trying hard to keep it professional.

“Nothing, honestly. I already did everything I wanted. But she’s a little shaken up, as you can imagine. Just tried to off herself. I figured I should call her therapist.”

“Damien!”

He could hear Joan running around, grabbing her shoes and car keys.

“Don’t worry, Doc! I think she had a good time. Very educational.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“Sure, why not? I’m always in a good mood post-orgasm. Here she is.”

Damien tried to hand the phone to Sam, but she was shaking too much to hold it. He held it to her ear instead. Sam stared down at her hands.

“Sam, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I am so, so sorry, Sam. Are you at your house?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m on my way, I promise. Does he have his ability back?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Sam glanced up at Damien. “I can’t tell.”

Damien shook his head. “I found a better way to get what I want,” he said over Sam’s chin. “It doesn’t involve drugging, and it doesn’t involve ‘imposing my want’ on other people. It does involve a gun, but I used a whole bunch of psychology and shit. You should be proud, Dr. B.”

“Sam, can you still hear me?”

“Yes.”

“How bad are your injuries?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need an ambulance?”

“No. I just want a shower.”

“Don’t shower, Sam. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and Mark and Chloe are both on their way. I just sent them a text. We’re coming for you. Do whatever he tells you and… just stay alive, Sam.”

“You heard the doctor’s orders.” Damien gave Sam a noisy smooch. “Make Daddy a grilled cheese and maybe I’ll let you live.”

Sam’s face went stone white. Damien knew it was from the use of the word “Daddy,” not the empty threat on her life.

“Damien.” Joan’s voice was the hardest he’d ever heard it. “Damien, don’t you dare hurt her. The only thing keeping you alive right now is the fact that Sam is alive and unharmed, and if you change that—”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need more incentive than that,” he drawled. “I kinda banged her up a little. Oops. Well, I’m hungry for a post-sex grilled cheese, so I’m gonna hang up now. We’ll see you soon, Dr. B.”

He hung up and jumped up from the bed. “Come on. You gotta do one last thing for me before you can fall asleep on me.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Sam poured a glass of chocolate milk for Damien. “I thought you wanted to kill me.”

“No, no, I got exactly what I wanted.” Damien waved his dill pickle at her before taking a crunchy bite. “Answer me one little question: wouldn’t you be _completely humiliated_ if your friends saw video footage of what happened to you?”

“No.” Sam’s mouth fell open in horror. “You didn’t. You… you couldn’t! Please, please, tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t film it. I did worse, actually. See, if Mark saw a video of me raping you with a gun, he’d assume you were being forced to eat my ass for fear of your life. But you know the truth, right? You know how turned on you were, how much you wanted it, how eagerly you licked my asshole for no other reason than that you wanted to. And I know you’re best friends with a telepath, and good old Mark is a mimic. So every time you think about me fucking you, for better or worse, so will they. When you go out with Chloe for your, I don’t know, your coffee or ‘fro-yo’ or whatever, and she says something about eating junk food, you’re going to remember that I said you smelled gross down there because you ate too much junk food. And doesn’t Chloe blurt out everything she hears?”

Sam sank weakly against the counter.

“And Mark…” Damien chuckled. “Hoo boy! Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little hopeful this would make him dump you. I can’t murder you, because then he’d just cry over you forever, and I can’t kidnap you, because then he’d just come bring you back and it would be all romantic and shit. But I realized, I can do all kinds of nasty shit to you, and if you think about it around him long enough, boom, problem solved. He’ll be too grossed out to stay with you.”

Sam shook her head. “You’re wrong. Mark doesn’t care about that. He loves me, and this won’t change anything.”

“Oh sure, that’s what he’ll _say_.” Damien grinned. “He has to say that. But would he really tell you if he can’t have sex with you without remembering how I fucked you ass-to-pussy without a condom? He’s always going to wonder if you’re thinking about me, or if he should choke you and call you a cunt like you want. And he’s probably gonna wonder what kind of STDs I gave you. Ah, man.” Damien leaned back in his chair, balancing on its back legs. “It’s gonna fuck your relationship up so bad. But hey, who am I to understand true love? I’m sure you two will suffer through it just to prove me wrong, am I right?”

Sam froze, her eyes locked on him and her mouth still parted in disbelief.

“So congrats, Sam!” Damien toasted her sarcastically with his glass. “I didn’t just give you the gift of some disgusting memories. I gave you the gift of the two most important people in your life associating you with disgusting memories forever. Enjoy it!”

Sam rushed to the sink and puked into it, mostly gagging up bile and blood.

“Awesome, now they’re gonna see that too,” Damien said cheerfully. “Welp, they should be here any minute.” He stood up, leaving his plate on the table and taking his uneaten sandwich half with him.  “Have fun explaining everything.”

 

Damien lurked in the bushes of the empty summer home just down the street and watched Sam’s house for a while. Joan arrived not five minutes after he’d left, holding a gun of her own like she knew how to use it and clearing the front door with all the caution of a fed. They must have taught her that at the AM. She went inside and shut the front door.

Mark jumped out of a Lyft a few minutes after Joan, bursting into the house with all the subtlety of a golden retriever. “Sam?! Sam! Jesus Christ, Sam, there’s so much blood! What the fuck happened?! I’m so sorry, this is all my fault—”

“Easy, Mark. Give her some space.”

“Joanie, thank God. Is she okay? Any sign of Damien?”

“No, he was gone by the time I got here. But I need you to sit with her so I can check the perimeter. Something tells me Damien wouldn’t go too far. He likes to watch the results of his… mischief.”

Joan came out and checked the shrubbery around Sam’s house, peering into the yard directly across the street but not into the one where Damien was hiding. Inside, Sam was finally crying in earnest. The door was open enough Damien could mostly hear the conversation.

“The gun wasn’t even loaded. I could have fought him—I could have run out the front door, I could have disappeared a hundred times, I could have stopped it.”

“No, Sam, you… you couldn’t have known. Like, there’s literally no way you could—or _should_ —have taken that bet. And, and he’s bigger than you even without the gun! Look what he did to you when you were cooperating! He’s completely unhinged. I really think he would have killed you if you’d done anything differently.”

Damien pondered that while Sam wept. Would he have really killed her? He didn’t think so. But maybe. He could see scenarios where she said exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time and made him squeeze her throat just a little too hard. He could see himself kicking her just a little too hard and cracking her skull against the kitchen counter. He wouldn’t have lost much sleep if he’d killed her, but it was definitely better she was alive to suffer the curse he’d put on her for a long while.

Another car arrived while Damien was contemplating Sam’s hypothetical death. Chloe and her mother parked and jumped out, hurrying inside. Chloe was even louder than Mark or Joan had been, and Joan and Vanessa left the front door open behind them as they fanned out around the house.

“Oh my god, Sam, I’m so sorry!” Chloe said. “I can’t believe he—wait what?”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark’s voice was as sweet as ever, even when it was shaking with anger. “I’m going to kill him. I’m really going to fuckin’ kill him.”

“Oh, Sam, you poor thing! That must have been so painful—”

“Guys, can we _please_  talk about this later?!” Sam sounded distraught. Perfect.

“Of course we can… What?! No! You love that blouse! It’s okay, we’ll wash it for you and it will be good as new—”

“Jesus, with his gun? That’s really disgusting.”

Sam’s anguished cry was audible all the way from where Damien hid. He almost laughed out loud from joy.

“No no! Oh Sam, sweetie, no, he didn’t mean you.”

“No, sorry, I meant that _he’s_ disgusting, and I’m so sorry he did all of that to you.”

“Do you want a—ah, no hugs, got it. No no, I promise you’re not disgusting. If that’s the only reason you don’t want a hug—ohh. Oh god. I mean, I’ve heard of that happening, and it doesn’t mean—”

“It wasn’t you, Sam. He must have his ability back. There’s no way you would ever—”

"Sam?"

There was an abrupt silence.

“I told you to give her space,” Joan admonished Mark.

“Joanie, if Damien can make her want that, make her participate like that, he had to have gotten his ability back—”

“I’m not convinced he has,” Joan said.

“What?! Joanie, there’s no way he could made her—”

“Listen to me, Mark. Both of you. I need you to remember that what Sam experienced is not uncommon in any kind of assault, atypical or otherwise. I called you here because you’re the two most important people in Sam’s life. But you both need to be very careful not to pry into her mind right now. Don’t probe thoughts she’s trying to conceal. Don’t comment on anything she doesn’t willingly divulge. Better yet, don’t comment on anything at all, especially not how she would never do certain things unless being mind controlled! We still don't know what happened, and Sam certainly would not be the first to..." Joan sighed. "Please, both of you, just be there for her without a running commentary on her private thoughts and—”

“Sam!”

“How long were you gone?”

“Just a few minutes.” Sam sounded sheepish. “I feel so gross, and I’m really in a lot of pain.... I just needed to escape for a minute to clear my head. Can I please take a shower now?”

“We really should take care of the police report before you—

“No. No police, no AM, just... I’m going to take a shower and then go to the dentist to have my tooth fixed. And I really don’t think I can sleep here tonight. Chloe, could you pack some clothes and things for me?”

“Of course," Chloe said. "And yes, I’ll start a load of laundry, too.”

“And I’ll get Darwin’s things together,” Mark said. “I love you, Sam.”

“Me too!” Chloe said. “We’re here for you. Nothing could ever change that.”

“Thanks.” Sam took a loud, steadying breath. “I love you guys too. But right now, I’m going to take the hottest shower of my life. There may be bleach involved. Ugh.”

It fell silent again. A light turned on upstairs. Apparently Sam was avoiding her master bathroom. The front door slammed all the way shut, cutting Damien off from the rest of the conversation. He settled in and lit a cigarette, then another, and then another.

Finally, the door opened back up. Damien ground out his cigarette with his sneaker and watched. Joan came out first, her stride brisk and focused. She’d put together a plan for everyone, and she was ready to go put it into action. Sam followed, and Damien was delighted to see her head hung low again. She’d changed into clean sweats, her damp hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Chloe, all sweetness and comfort, held Sam’s hand and shouldered two purses. Mark was behind them, sporting a cat carrier and a grim expression. Joan and Vanessa brought up the rear, loading Sam’s and Darwin’s bags into Joan’s car while scanning the street.

“Does everyone know the plan?” Joan asked.

Four heads bobbed the affirmative.

“Good luck.” Joan squeezed Sam’s hand. She caught Vanessa’s gaze. “Call me if anything comes up.”

“We will.”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe said. “We’ll take really good care of her.”

“I know.” Joan smiled sadly at Sam. “We’ll see you at the apartment soon. Let us know if you feel hungry for anything and we’ll have it waiting.”

“Thanks.

“Hug?” Mark asked.

Sam nodded, apparently fascinated by her shoes.

Mark pulled her into his arms gingerly, rubbing her back. “I love you so much.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re not disgusting.”

Sam didn’t look convinced. “Thanks. Give Darwin a can of wet food for me? He was meowing and trying to save me the whole time.”

Mark hugged her more tightly. If he answered her, Damien couldn’t hear it. Then they pulled away, and Sam climbed into the backseat of Vanessa’s car while Mark got in Joan’s car.

Damien waited a few minutes before sneaking back into the house. They had cleared up the dishes in the kitchen and the clothes from the living room floor. Damien could hear the dryer running.

He retrieved his beer bottle from where it had rolled under the couch and sat down at Sam’s desk. He took the nicest pen and stationery he could find and started to write something, but nothing came to mind. So he simply drew a smiley face and signed his name. Then he rolled the sheet into a cylinder and stuck it into the beer bottle.

Sam’s bed had been neatly made with fresh linens, a corner lovingly pulled away for whenever Sam came home to it. Damien shoved the beer bottle under the covers near the foot of the bed. Then he climbed in, shoes and all, and rolled around to get his scent back on the sheets. He blew his nose on Sam’s top sheet. The handcuffs fell out of his pocket, and he pushed them under the pillow.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he stood up, unzipped his jeans, and sprayed the bed with his foul, yellow beer piss. He made sure to concentrate his stream on the pillows and just under them. He wanted the scent to completely fill Sam’s nose, even long after his piss dried.

He imagined her coming home in a few days, traumatized but determined not to let Damien win. Mark or Chloe would be there, and Sam would put up a good front for them. He could just see her marching to her bed like nothing bad had ever happened there. And then she’d climb between her nice, clean sheets and bury her face in her pissed-on pillow while her hand found the cuffs and her foot found the bottle. If Damien had done his part right, and he was pretty sure he had, she would be as turned on as she was terrified.

And just like that, he was hard again. Not just hard—he was utterly throbbing at the thought. He imagined Mark and Chloe trying to comfort a pajama-clad Sam while she frantically tried not to remember the truth in their proximity. He imagined her weeks in the future, getting brave enough to try sex with Mark again, only to find that she couldn’t come unless she closed her eyes and remembered being raped and tortured. He imagined her getting close to her orgasm and slipping and calling Mark “Daddy.” Or worse, “Damien.”

“Oh, shiiiiiit…”

Damien came all over one of Sam’s decorative throw pillows. He smirked as he smeared his jizz into the pattern and tucked the pillow at the bottom of the stack. Yup, even one second in this bed would make Sam feel exactly as disgusting as Damien wanted her to feel.

He pulled the covers straight and left.


End file.
